


On Fumes

by linguamortua



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: 1980s, F/F, Past Domestic Violence, Pre-Relationship, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-30 07:24:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12103665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linguamortua/pseuds/linguamortua
Summary: So much had been lost to Rey. Stolen from her—she was coming to think of it like a theft. Last week she had phoned Finn for the first time in forever, and it had been okay, but weird. There had been so much explaining and apologising to do. If they met face to face Rey knew that he would look at her differently now. Maybe he would even pity her. So she hadn’t called him back again yet. But she had started to miss company again. And now there was someone to drive with for a while who didn’t need to be apologised to.Phasma was meeting the new Rey, whose life only sucked inregularways.





	On Fumes

**Author's Note:**

> Threw in a little secret reference for Best Human [brawlite](http://brawlite.tumblr.com)!

The road shimmered and twisted in the heat, like it had for days. Around it, the desert was pale yellow and endless, an inferno. It was midday and the backs of Rey’s thighs sweated and chafed against the cracked leather seat. She had the beginnings of a heat rash coming up under the band of her bra. She had taken it off earlier, but at the last gas station the attendant had stared until she told him to fuck off, and then he’d called her a whore. It was too hot to get riled up by that shit. She’d put the bra back on in the gross gas station toilet. The van was barely tolerable while moving. Stationary, it was unbearable. That was what decided things, in the end. It was why she picked up the hitchhiker.

After all, the blonde woman was all alone, and her motorcycle wasn’t going to get fixed out here. And she was in leather pants, and she had an old bruise yellowing in her left eye socket, and something hunted and brittle about her. Rey had been there before. The next person to come along might be a creep. She guessed she had a fucking moral duty, or something.

‘Fine,’ she said eventually. ‘But just to the nearest motel.’

The blonde snatched up her rucksack and hauled herself up into the passenger seat. She left her Honda smoking on the side of the highway. Rey jammed the van into gear and pulled away. The hitchhiker watched the bike get smaller and smaller until it was gone.

The radio was playing, just quietly. It was too goddamn hot to sleep, but the blonde woman drowsed anyway, chin hanging down on her chest. Flat and empty as the highway was, Rey could get a good look at her. She was tall and broad with a short mop of blonde curls and square, capable-looking hands. Her mouth was red and it was turned down unhappily even as she slept. Leather boots and pants, and a sleeveless white shirt tucked in. She had thrown her rucksack and bedroll and jacket in the back, but her silver crash helmet stayed on her lap. Two fingers on her left hand were taped together, one of them with a blackened fingernail starting to lift away. Up close, Rey saw a loose necklace of little round bruises around her throat.

She swallowed hard, remembering Kylo. It was hard to breathe for a minute.

‘You should watch the road,’ said the woman. Rey’s fingers momentarily tightened on the steering wheel. She hadn’t noticed the woman’s eyes cracking open.

‘You should—,’ she began to snap back, and then pulled up short. Enough ugliness had been burned into her, before. Sometimes she couldn’t help adding to it. She changed course. ‘I’m sorry about your bike. It looked rad.’

‘Yeah,’ said her passenger. Her taped fingers shifted slightly on her helmet, making a sticky, sweaty sound. ‘Shit just kept breaking and I couldn’t pay for parts.’

‘I hear that,’ said Rey. She shifted gear so that the woman could hear the weird grinding noise. The woman huffed with amusement, or maybe recognition. Rey kept driving.

A couple of hours later they came to half a dozen buildings, preempted by an old sign.

**WELCOME TO LANE. POPULATION: 63.**

There was a gas station. Rey pulled in.

‘Can’t pay you much for gas,’ said the blonde woman. Rey shrugged.

‘Don’t need gas.’ She jumped down from the van, taking the ignition key and an empty water can with her. The tiny store was from the fucking 1930s. Rey refilled her water can, and a soda, and a tin of peanuts. Acetaminophen and tampons and a net of sad oranges, and a Cosmo from back in February. She hit the washrooms and went back to the van. The woman was standing in the shade on the forecourt, trying to catch a breeze. She had taken off her leathers and was down to shorts. _Cool_ , thought Rey, copping a good look.

‘Fuck being on the rag in this bullshit weather,’ Rey griped as she started the van again.

‘Amen.’

‘Got water.’ Rey jerked her thumb into the back seat.

‘Me too.’ The woman held up a big old army canteen.

‘Hungry?’

‘Hell yeah.’ They ate peanuts and oranges on the next stretch of highway, flicking bits of peel out the windows. As the afternoon picked up, so did a light breeze.

Van Halen came on and Rey turned up the radio.

‘I love this song,’ she crowed. She drummed along on the wheel with palms of her hands, counting herself in, then began to sing along. Her passenger joined in, just humming at first like she was wary of making too much noise. That lasted about until the chorus, and then they were both belting it out.

‘Panama, by Van Halen,’ said the DJ, ‘and more from those guys coming up later, but first…’

Rey turned the radio back down.

‘First good song all afternoon,’ she said. Then, all in a rush and feeling weird about it, she said, ‘I guess now I know you’re into decent music, I can ask your name.’

‘It’s Phasma,’ said the woman.

‘Jeez,’ Rey said, ‘your parents were hippies too, huh?’ She pointed to herself. ‘Rey. Short for, you don’t even wanna know. There’s hyphens.’

‘Now I have to ask.’

‘Taking it to my grave.’ Rey said.

‘You on a road trip?’ Phasma asked. She sounded disinterested, but it was a pretty weak pretense.

‘Just driving, I guess,’ Rey said. ‘Quit my job. I broke up with this guy and he kicked me out. Been driving around a couple of months. Might go to New Mexico next. You?’

‘Some guy,’ Phasma said very quietly. ‘He’s crazy so I can’t be in the same town. Or the same state. But everyone fucking loves him.’ She snorted. ‘Rich daddy.’

‘Assholes,’ Rey said vehemently. ‘Where are you trying to get to?’

‘Anywhere away from him.’

‘Totally.’ They fell silent. Rey’s gut turned over with the low, simmering anger that she had learned had been there a long time. When Phasma spoke again, she sounded like she was making an argument to herself.

‘I was a mechanic before. I had to quit and work in a store. But anywhere with a shop, I can get work. I figure, somewhere rural, work on trucks, cheap rent. Just kinda lay low.’

‘Be a person again.’

‘Yeah.’

Phasma’s stomach grumbled, shocking them both out of seriousness. As though in sympathy, Rey’s growled too. She realised how long it had been since she’d had a real meal, sitting down somewhere with air conditioning and maybe even actual plates. It had been a few days now, driving aimlessly and subsisting on gas station chow. On the horizon, a thin black smudge suggested the next one-horse town.

‘I want a burger,’ she muttered to herself. There was still a luxury—and a sense of lingering fear—about the prospect of eating all that she wanted. Damning the consequences. She had been kept so hungry for so long; big-eyed and doll like.

She put her foot down and the van lurched forward with its usual squealing axle. Driving fast, she chased the ghost of buildings ahead. It took longer than she had thought. The taste of old oranges had long left her mouth by the time they pulled into a McDonald’s parking lot. In almost perfect unison, Rey and Phasma jumped down from the van and made a beeline for the smell of frying oil. Inside, a middle-aged woman and an acne-covered teenage boy served up burgers and fries to half a dozen dust-covered patrons. Farmers, long-haul truckers, a girl in a pair of faded green overalls.

They ordered, and then without discussion or negotiation reached for their pockets and sorted through small bills and coins. A little heap of rumpled and tarnished cash piled up on the counter until they hit seven bucks and change. Rey tried real hard not to count it out and keep score. Anyone who left their bike by the side of the road and was short on gas money probably needed a break from the universe.

And anyway, thought Rey, as they sat down at a red plastic table, face to face for the first time, she kind of liked Phasma. Yeah, that was it, that casual warmth. The liking that they liked the same song. So much had been lost to Rey. Stolen from her—she was coming to think of it like a theft. Last week she had phoned Finn for the first time in forever, and it had been okay, but weird. There had been so much explaining and apologising to do. If they met face to face Rey knew that he would look at her differently now. Maybe he would even pity her. So she hadn’t called him back again yet. But she had started to miss company again. And now there was someone to drive with for a while who didn’t need to be apologised to.

Phasma was meeting the new Rey, whose life only sucked in _regular_ ways.

Like right now, eating fries that were kind of too salty. She and Phasma both grimaced in unison. A hot meal was welcome, though, even in this stupid warm weather. Rey was craving protein and salt, red meat and fat. They shovelled down their burgers and fries. And about a litre of soda. Rey crunched the ice at the bottom of her cardboard cup. She leaned back in her chair, belly full, and burped.

‘Excuse you,’ said an older guy on the table next to them. Rey ignored him. Phasma did, too, wiping up the last bit of her ketchup with a fry.

‘Now what?’ Rey asked. It was crazy how much better she felt after food. Less grumpy, less foggy. Maybe she should eat real meals more often.

‘What time is it?’

Rey leaned over to check the clock on the wall. ‘Nearly six, if it matters. I usually just drive til I get tired and sleep in the van.’

‘There’s a motel down the block,’ Phasma said neutrally.

‘So?’

‘You said you’d give me a ride to a motel.’ She shrugged awkwardly and looked out the window for a moment. ‘Here we are.’

Rey looked down at her tray and felt bad, guilty. She thought about the way she’d said that when she first picked Phasma up at the height of midday. When she was cramping like a motherfucker, and chafing with heat.

‘Yeah, I said that.’ She rolled the paper from her drinking straw into a little worm, and then into a circle. ‘I haven’t showered in like ten days. I could use one. So we could split on a room. If you wanted. You don’t have to say yes.’

‘Fuck,’ Phasma said on a long, explosive breath, ‘I was hoping you wanted to. I have maybe thirty bucks to my name right now.’

‘Why does everything cost money,’ said Rey, but it wasn’t a question.

They ditched their garbage and pulled up outside the motel. Rey felt itchy looking at it, although when they got inside there was a nice old lady there to check them in. She gave them each a mint candy with the room key. Phasma rolled hers around her mouth; Rey crunched hers up.

‘Okay, girls,’ she said, getting up from her desk, ‘you can take room nine. It’s all the way here at the end. There’s an ice machine and vending machine in the lobby, and in the morning you can tell Poe down at the diner that you stayed here, and he’ll do you pancakes and sausage for two dollars each.’ She opened the door to the room.

It was old-school, like 1960s old-school, and the bed was small. It was clean, though, and when Rey dived for the shower there was hot water and there were okay towels. Rey basked under the water, scrubbing away grease and sweat and watching a spiral of period blood curl satisfying down around the drain. She washed some of her underwear in the sink and hung it over the edge of the bath to dry. Something under her ribcage was tugging at her; some kind of emotion, or a simulacrum of what once had been her emotions. She dithered over arranging her wet clothes and changing into clean shorts and a t-shirt.

When she looked at herself in the mirror, wiping off the mist with her fist, it was obvious that she wasn’t wearing a bra. And then she remembered: _oh yeah, this is how it feels when you’re attracted to someone_. She pushed open the bathroom door tentatively, as if something might have changed when she got back into the room. Phasma was sprawled out in a little chair by the door, looking half-asleep again. Rey nudged her with her foot.

‘Bathroom’s yours,’ she said. Phasma uncoiled, and kicked off her shoes. She pulled off her shorts right there, as if Rey didn’t exists, and wriggled out of her shirt, and unhooked her bra. Rey tried to look busy messing around in her old kit bag as Phasma’s dusty clothes fell to the floor.

‘Is there soap in there?’ Phasma asked, and Rey made herself look up—and look at Phasma’s _face_ —like it wasn’t a big deal, and six foot plus women with amazing tits just got naked in front of all her the time.

‘Yeah,’ Rey said, like a normal person. ‘Yeah, there’s shampoo too.’

‘Cool.’ Phasma walked her buck ass naked self into the bathroom, and Rey looked at the door as it closed behind her.

 _Holy shit_ , she mouthed to herself. She thought that Phasma could probably have taken Kylo in a fight. She didn’t think about Kylo a whole lot, unless she was imagining someone beating the shit out of him. What the hell—she’d always liked muscles on anyone. She figured that if Phasma used to be a mechanic, she was even a little out of shape. She thought about that mental image for a while, getting warm. Jilling off over it would be fucking weird. She puttered around the room, looking at the weird flower print on the wall, peeping out through the blinds into the parking lot. Repacking her bag.

Then she got into bed for want of something else to do. It wouldn’t be getting dark for hours yet, but she was bone tired. She reached for the out of date Cosmopolitan and started reading it slowly, making it last. Trying very hard not to think about what it was going to be like to share a bed with Phasma—what might happen. _Is He Cheating? Take Our Quiz!_ She turned a page to an ad for the new Converse hi-tops. _Sweet._ And then the letters page, which always made her laugh and feel like maybe her life could be worse.

Phasma blew out the bathroom in a towel and a breath of hot steam.

Much worse.

For a shocking, brilliant moment, Rey thought Phasma was just going to get into bed with her naked. She didn’t. She put on underwear and a sports bra and a t-shirt.

‘Is there anything good in there?’ Phasma asked with a yawn.

‘In this?’ Rey shook her magazine.

‘Yeah.’

‘Our men might be cheating on us,’ Rey said, straight-faced.

‘Maybe there’s a lipstick for that.’ Phasma flopped down on the bed with a groan, and looked at the clock on the wall, upside down. ‘It’s not even nine,’ she said. Rey finished the letter she was reading, and opened her mouth to answer. Phasma was already asleep.

Disappointing. Rey looked at her, crashed out on her back. She hadn’t even gotten under the covers. She looked pink and gold, warm from the shower. Rey liked that a whole lot, and in a lot of ways. It should have been weird, because they’d only known each other for a day. Sex would probably make it weird. She thought that Phasma was the kind of person she could really like. Pictured feeding coins into a payphone sometime in New Mexico next week and calling her, wherever she was, like a new and real friend who she didn’t have to be pitied by. It could totally work. Tomorrow, she was going to tell Phasma she could stick around a bit longer. Maybe even as far as Roswell. Maybe she would be into the alien stuff, like Rey was.

She thought about the shrink, who’d she’d seen once after Kylo and hated. _How do you feel about that?_ Rey switched off the light, which didn’t make the room a lot darker, and put her magazine down on the floor.

 _I feel okay about it,_ she said to herself, which was true.

 

* * *

 

When Rey woke up in the morning, she was tangled up in the top sheet. The comforter had fallen down onto the floor. She was momentarily disoriented. When she rolled onto her back, she expected someone to be in the bed with her. Someone? _Oh right_ , she thought. _Her._

The bathroom door was open and the room was empty. Phasma’s rucksack and jacket had gone, and her helmet, too. Rey felt her chest fold in on itself. Loneliness hadn’t been a feature of her life lately, but here it was—back again. She sat up and swung her legs off the edge of the bed. She guessed she’d have to pay for the room on her own. Fuckin’ great.

‘This is why you can’t trust people,’ she said to herself as she rolled on a pair of ankle socks and fished for deodorant in her bag. She was doing up her tennis shoe when the door opened.

Phasma was there. She had a paper bag in one hand and a dented silver Thermos in the other.

‘You look surprised,’ she said, and threw the bag at Rey. ‘I got breakfast. And coffee.’ She threw her tall frame into the chair by the door. And then she grinned, and it lit up her pale face. ‘And a job. Maybe.’

Rey, not able to process food, coffee and unspeakable good luck all together this early in the morning, looked in the paper bag. She found waffles and sausage and a cardboard cup of hashbrowns.

‘Thanks,’ she said, folding a waffle in half and taking a bite. With her mouth full, she asked, ‘What kind of a maybe job?’

‘Repair place,’ said Phasma. ‘Mostly trucks and farm stuff. A few cars.’

‘That’s amazing,’ said Rey, privately thinking about having to leave town alone.

‘It’s not a done deal,’ said Phasma. ‘First I have to show the guy I know what I’m doing.’ She drank a lid full of coffee and handed Rey the Thermos and lid. ‘Related: can I borrow your van?’ She grinned again, shit-eating. Probably the woman she was supposed to be, thought Rey. Her heart squeezed a little.

‘For…’ Rey said, hardly daring to hope.

‘I can fix that gear, maybe.’

‘Maybe,’ said Rey. She carefully rolled a bit of waffle around a hashbrown.

‘Maybe you could stick around after I do that,’ Phasma said, very casually.

‘Maybe I could,’ Rey said. And she smiled at Phasma, finally, her face feeling weird with it and unpracticed. She knew the kind of look Phasma was giving her. Once upon a time, she’d felt that way before. Maybe she was feeling that way now, a little.

Rey threw her keys over to Phasma, and trusted that she’d get them back. As Phasma left, Rey remembered what she’d been thinking about last night.

‘Hey, Phasma?’ Phasma turned at the door and looked back at her.

‘Yeah?’

‘Do you like weird alien stuff?’

‘Like Roswell and shit? Fuck yeah.’

‘Awesome,’ said Rey. And it was.


End file.
